Under The Net ..
then the silence closed upon me.
i have been gone a while, i know.
but i think everything in life comes with an expiry date... and so does this blog. i think.
still not sure where the roads lead to, but ..
i might be back.
meanwhile, i'll be somewhere.. near there.
~ Dear 2008,
don't make me have to kick you. If you behave the way 2007 did i swear to Jesus i will kick you to the tacoma.
17:08~*~*~*~*~*~*~[
Download tere janay kay baad -Shafqat Amanat Ali (OST: tere janay kay baad)]
[
Download Punjab -Claude Challe & Ravin] Ps. you'll need a coolgoose/cooltoad username with a passcode to download these tracks.
Labels: Randomoddity. Downloads
0 lend me some sugar.
Ntozake Shange/For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf
Without any assistance or guidance from you, I have loved you assiduously for
8 months, 2 weeks, and a day. I have been stood up four times. I've left seven
packages on your doorstep, forty poems, 2 plants and 3 handmade notecards. I
left town so I could send to you. You have been no help to me on my job. You
call at 3:00 in the morning on weekdays so I could drive across the bay before I
go to work.
charmin.
charmin.
but you are of no assistance. I want you to know this was an experiment. To see
how selfish I could be. If I would really carry on to share a possible lover. If
I was capable of debasin myself for the love of another. If I could stand not
being wanted when I wanted to be wanted.
And I cannot.
So
with no further assistance and no guidance from you
I am ending this affair."Labels: Excerpts.
0 lend me some sugar.
A Supermarket in California
Allen Ginsberg
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for
I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache
self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went
into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families
shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the
avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what
were you doing down by the watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,
poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery
boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the
pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans
following you, and followed in my imagination by the store
detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our
solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen
delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in
an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The
trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be
lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher,
what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and
you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat
disappear on the black waters of Lethe?
Berkeley, 1955Labels: Poetry.
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excerpt from Manifesta -
Jennifer Baumgardner and Amy Richards
"After ladies loosen up around the table, Mary Magdalene would begin by talking about sex workers' rights, and returning belly dancing to its origin as an exercise for giving birth. Leah and Rachel would resolve their longtime sisterly competition by ditching Jacob, the man their father married them both to, and agitate for women to be able to inherit their own property. Rather than being synonymous with evil, Jezebel would be lauded for her business acumen. Hagar would receive palimony and child support from her lover, Abraham. Sarah, Abraham's wife, might even befriend Hagar, Abraham's concubine and Sarah's slave; at the very least, she would empathize. Bathsheba, tired of looking for love from a poetic boy who couldn't commit, would have presence of mind to leave Kind David. Delilah would teach them about orgasm and exhort her friends to make sure they got what they needed in bed. Lilith would be full of first wives' club advice for Eve, and Eve would be pontificating about the politics of housework. Eve would also recognize that she had been framed, and refuse to take the Fall for her man or her God. Ruth wouldn't be saying "Whither thou goest, I will go" to her mother-in-law or anyone anymore; she'd be blazing her own trails..." Labels: Excerpts.
1 lend me some sugar.
Dream is not what you see in your sleep;
it is, what does not let you sleep.
Dream Big!
0 lend me some sugar.
Comments of the day..
the_xjester (1/10/2008 1:22:42 AM): wow, that is one long paradox, i mean poem. im afraid i got lost somwhere to grasp the meaning, poetry does tend to do that to mE. and well thanks for stopping by, so this being the eulogy of your uncaring means that uncaring is dead and let the caring begin ?
0 lend me some sugar.
At least once every human should have to run for his life, to teach him that milk does not come from supermarkets, that safety does not come from policemen, that "news" is not something that happens to other people. He might learn how his ancestors lived and that he himself is no different - in the crunch his life depends on his agility, alertness, and personal resourcefulness.
- Robert Heinlein - The Number of the BeastLabels: Excerpts.
0 lend me some sugar.
Love opened a mortal wound.
In agony, I worked the blade
to make it deeper. Please,
I begged, let death come quick.
Wild, distracted, sick,
I counted, counted
all the ways love hurt me.
One life, I thought—a thousand deaths.
Blow after blow, my heart
couldn't survive this beating.
Then—how can I explain it?—
I came to my senses. I said,
Why do I suffer? What lover
ever had so much pleasure
—Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz
0 lend me some sugar.
Being with you or without you
is how i measure my time.
love is a Parallax
by Sylvia Plath
'Perspective betrays with its dichotomy:
train tracks always meet, not here, but only
in the impossible mind's eye;
horizons beat a retreat as we embark
on sophist seas to overtake that mark
where wave pretends to drench real sky.'
'Well then, if we agree, it is not odd
that one man's devil is another's god
or that the solar spectrum is
a multitude of shaded grays; suspense
on the quicksands of ambivalence
is our life's whole nemesis.
So we could rave on, darling, you and I,
until the stars tick out a lullaby
about each cosmic pro and con;
nothing changes, for all the blazing of
our drastic jargon, but clock hands that move
implacably from twelve to one.
We raise our arguments like sitting ducks
to knock them down with logic or with luck
and contradict ourselves for fun;
the waitress holds our coats and we put on
the raw wind like a scarf; love is a faun
who insists his playmates run.
Now you, my intellectual leprechaun,
would have me swallow the entire sun
like an enormous oyster, down
the ocean in one gulp: you say a mark
of comet hara-kiri through the dark
should inflame the sleeping town.
So kiss: the drunks upon the curb and dames
in dubious doorways forget their monday names,
caper with candles in their heads;
the leaves applaud, and santa claus flies in
scattering candy from a zeppelin,
playing his prodigal charades.
The moon leans down to took; the tilting fish
in the rare river wink and laugh; we lavish
blessings right and left and cry
hello, and then hello again in deaf
churchyard ears until the starlit stiff
graves all carol in reply.
Now kiss again: till our strict father leans
to call for curtain on our thousand scenes;
brazen actors mock at him,
multiply pink harlequins and sing
in gay ventriloquy from wing to wing
while footlights flare and houselights dim.
Tell now, we taunq where black or white begins
and separate the flutes from violins:
the algebra of absolutes
explodes in a kaleidoscope of shapes
that jar, while each polemic jackanapes
joins his enemies' recruits.
The paradox is that 'the play's the thing':
though prima donna pouts and critic stings,
there burns throughout the line of words,
the cultivated act, a fierce brief fusion
which dreamers call real, and realists, illusion:
an insight like the flight of birds:
Arrows that lacerate the sky, while knowing
the secret of their ecstasy's in going;
some day, moving, one will drop,
and, dropping, die, to trace a wound that heals
only to reopen as flesh congeals:
cycling phoenix never stops.
So we shall walk barefoot on walnut shells
of withered worlds, and stamp out puny hells
and heavens till the spirits squeak
surrender: to build our bed as high as jack's
bold beanstalk; lie and love till sharp scythe hacks
away our rationed days and weeks.
Then jet the blue tent topple, stars rain down,
and god or void appall us till we drown
in our own tears: today we start
to pay the piper with each breath, yet love
knows not of death nor calculus above
the simple sum of heart plus heart.
Labels: Poetry.
0 lend me some sugar.
Smack
by Melvin Burgess
"It was just a moment we had together. I mean, he was a really special person to me, but...I just felt that someone could come along and blow hard and I'd fly away from him, go in the wind and end up...next door or on another planet with someone else, anywhere. Just because the wind blew."
"I guess I'm not all that interested in niceness. Sometimes people call me nice but that's just because I can make them feel happy. Inside, I just want to have a good time, enjoy myself. I expect I'll get found out one day."
"Sometimes when we were standing behind the breakers with the crowd, he'd hold me so tight, I'd think he's not just holding me, he's holding ONTO Me, like I'm stopping him from falling off."
"People are always talking about love like it's something every day. People say they love their parents, but what does that mean? Not exactly intoxicating is it? I hate mine sometimes but I don't suppose I feel any less for them than anyone else. All I know is this: if there is such a thing as being in love, I may not be there yet, but when I do I'm going to be INFATUATED.
All over the place.
I'll do anything for him.
You name it.
Whatever.
But in the meantime, I intend to make the most of my freedom."
"It all fell to bits pretty quickly after he left. I thought I was holding the whole thing together. Apparently he thought it was him. People hang onto situations. You think you ARE the situation. Then, when the whole bloody thing falls apart....you are still there."Labels: Excerpts.
0 lend me some sugar.
Wish You A Happy New Year ♥ ... yellowlane. :)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
[Download (zipped in .wma format) maa - shankar mahadevan]
-exclusively dedicated to xulfee bhai....
just a way how i felt, missed, prayed n shrieked for you last night.
[download (in .rm format) maa - shankar mahadevan (OST: Taare zameen per)]
[download yaad aye woh din -OST: Stranger]
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
[i sway o're piya - rahat fateh ali khan (ost: aaja nachle)]
[i stray 
]
the best thing is believing in something you can't see but know it's real because you can feel it. i have faith in Him. i don't know if there is anything better. save me. save my country. will You? :)
Everyone Have a Great New Year!!!!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thought of the day.... 
have you ever felt like how you came to be the person you see in the mirror?
i used to think i knew who i was.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dance, Recover, Repeat
"Words: Sometimes words aren't enough. In terms of describing a particular emotion or even thought, most words don't seem... adequate. For example, the things we refer to as "attraction" or "fear" or "love," we only do so because those words happen to be the most convenient. There are too many colours and textures and subtleites attached to those concepts to call them by their real names, because when it comes down to it I don't think they even have real names.
Emotions are like those giant sea creatures you read about -- prehistoric squid living miles and miles below the ocean surface, the kind that no human has ever laid eyes on. We know they're there, even though we don't know what they look like or how to describe them--that's why we don't give them names. We can't."
Alasdair Duncan
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The Black Art
Anne Sexton
A woman who writes feels too much,
those trances and portents!
As if cycles and children and islands
weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips
and vegetables were never enough.
She thinks she can warn the stars.
A writer is essentially a spy.
Dear love, I am that girl.
A man who writes knows too much,
such spells and fetiches!
As if erections and congresses and products
weren't enough; as if machines and galleons
and wars were never enough.
With used furniture he makes a tree.
A writer is essentially a crook.
Dear love, you are that man.
Never loving ourselves,
hating even our shoes and our hats,
we love each other, precious, precious.
Our hands are light blue and gentle.
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
But when we marry,
the children leave in disgust.
There is too much food and no one left over
to eat up all the weird abundance.Labels: New year, Randomoddity. Downloads
0 lend me some sugar.
..so lately i have been in
this stay-up-till 7am, ungrammatical, nostalgic, talk to myself. paranoid, insomniac, wide eyed, and a little intense. okie maybe little is an
understatement. wish i knew if i wanted stability more than the complete range of emotions and
melodrama. if only life could be summarized in one simple word...good or bad. -im
too young to be stuck somewhere in the middle, sitting on a fence and whining
about it. no, i cant write an intro for myself, hence i ask you to read the damn
blog. maybe.. you'll find out more through my posts. n in the meanwhile take a panadol handy.. .
tell me you luv me..
Terror Alert Level -
One crow sorrow
Two crows mirth
Three crows a joining
Four
crows a birth
Five crows lucky
Six crows cold
Seven crows a
secret
Never to be told
- Lately...
When I was a child
a story was told
about the devil
and a girl so bold.
He offered her riches,
a fortune of gold,
and lovers abound.
But she lifted her soul,
she lifted her soul clean.
Like the story was told
on a dark country road
the same man appeared to me...
But I reached, I reached
through the rain to the Devil's feet.
Now twenty years later
to the place I return where I scorned the angels
for a passion that burned.
There set in a tree
a knot twisted and turned,
the face of a creature Hell bound.
So long ago
could my mind've played jokes on me?
As darkness sets in,
unavoidable sin,
the truth I try not to believe....
That I reached, I reached
through the rain to the Devil's feet.
-by Azure Ray
_________________
One Tree Hill - New
Zealand.
Dedicated to Xulfee Bhai, who chose to die in the Summer of 2003 Oct 7.
calm before the storm
_________________
Numb by Linkin Park
And i know
I may end up failing too
But i know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you..
I've become so Numb...I can't feel you there.
said he: tum jaisay doosron say bhaagti ho aur chupati ho .. wohi mere saath bhi kiya.... "
~*~ current mood ...
